Thank You For That
by Princess Sammi
Summary: Constance mourns Amelia's death. Just a little one shot I wrote in the late hours of last night, to mark the one year anniversary of my own Gran's passing.


**Disclaimer: I don't own 'The Worst Witch' and the title comes from Jimmy Eat World's absolutely heart-wrenching song 'Hear You Me', from which the fic was inspired from.  
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**A/N: Hi folks, this fic was written more for my benefit than anybody else's, to prevent me from going off the deep end.**

**One year ago to this very day I woke up to the news that my beloved Gran had passed away. It wasn't completely unexpected, but it wasn't something I was prepared for either. I miss her and love her like crazy, so this is just my (other) little sort of tribute to her. :)  
**

**So, Gran, this is for you, my darling.**

* * *

**Thank You For That  
**

**Monday 23rd December 2013**

"Amelia..."

She began, before the words trailed off into nothingness and she was stuck. She didn't know what else to say; she didn't even know where to begin, her normally vast grasp of vocabulary deserting her brain as she struggled to form a single sentence, trying and failing each time; the words she so desperately wanted to say seemed to stick in her throat as she choked back another sob.

There was a part of her, a very large part, that wanted so desperately to be in denial, to be able to pretend that none of it was real and was in fact a mere figment of the imagination. Nothing but a nightmare that would soon be banished from existence, when she would rise to find that nothing had changed.

Yes, there was a part of her that wanted to be in denial but the other part of her; the logical part, knew different and so she couldn't pretend otherwise.

Not even for a little while...

...but just how was she supposed to put it into words? How could she pay her last respects to such a wonderful woman?

The rest of the school had dispersed after the service but she had slipped away unnoticed, returning to the fresh graveside, knowing that this was something that she needed to do, and knowing that if she didn't then she would regret it for the rest of her life.

In theory it had made sense but now that she was standing there, in the moment, she just felt so incredibly lost; like everything she had ever known had just been ripped away from her, leaving her to stand on her own once more, and for the first time, she didn't know what to do.

There was a slight breeze in the air, its wafts rippling around her like the gentle waves of an ocean as it calmed after a storm, causing the ends of her hair to dance behind her, creating a vision of ethereal beauty: her usual bun forsaken as she wore her long hair loose in a mark of respect. Brushing a wayward strand from her eyes, she let out a shuddering sigh, her whole frame shaking under the weight of trying to contain the grief and emotion that was clawing its way to the surface.

No one was around to see it but she still couldn't bring herself to display it.

"I don't know if you can hear me or not, Amelia but I just wanted to- I mean ...I owe you so much...in fact, I owe you everything."

It was true, she really did.

* * *

If it hadn't been for the kind soul that had been Amelia Cackle she didn't know where she would be now. She suspected that she would still be on the bottom rung of the ladder - if she were lucky enough to be on it at all, but here she was, and she'd climbed higher than she ever dreamt was possible.

She owed it all to her.

She was still able to remember it as if it had only happened yesterday...

How she had sat in her small bedroom, her scarce few possessions now packed away in a suitcase as she prepared to graduate from Witch Training College.

It should have been the happiest day of her life.

Soon, she would be free. It was something she had longed for, for so long; something she had once only dreamed of and now it was so close she could almost taste it.

She_ was_ happy, of course she was, and she _was_ relieved to soon be out from under the tyrannical reign of Heckitty Broomhead, but intermingled with that feeling, and thus overriding any feelings of positivity, was terror: pure terror. For the minute she walked through those gates and crossed over the threshold, she was on her own: she had no money, she had no references and she had no job offer.

She'd had nowhere to go and no idea what she was going to do.

Then a chance meeting with a kindly woman had changed all of that in a blink of an eye, almost like her very own fairy godmother; it was a chance meeting that had changed her whole life. This woman hadn't known a single thing about her, yet she had offered her a job, offered her a home and had offered her the chance to make a new life for herself.

It was an opportunity she had grabbed, if at first a little hesitantly, with both hands; one that she had been and always would be eternally grateful for. Allowing her to shape her future and find her true calling, and for the first time in a long long time, to find a sense of belonging.

She only hoped that Amelia knew how grateful she was. She suspected that she had done but she couldn't be sure and now she would never truly know.

She wasn't exactly the easiest person to get along with, far from it. She knew that. No matter what she did she always seemed to upset someone, always seemed to antagonise, even when she wasn't trying to. She knew that she kept herself guarded; her walls high and her mask in place – she had her reasons, as we all do, but she really did care.

More than Amelia would ever know...

"I'm so grateful for what you did for me...all that you gave me... "

A lone tear finally fought its way free and trickled slowly down her cheek, brushing against the skin like someone gently caressing it. She let it be for minute, feeling the hot salty sting of tears, before fiercely wiping it away as quickly as it had appeared.

"I never got to thank you..."

The words came out as a mere whisper, quickly lost in the ether.

Leaves rustled behind her and she whipped round sharply, always on the defensive, always on her guard; never wanting to be caught in a moment of weakness. She scanned the surrounding area as she held her breath, but there was no one there.

It was as if the world was mocking her.

* * *

Her mind was a whirl with questions, so many questions, and so many answers: so many which now never would be, forever to remain unknown.

She couldn't help it but she was just so angry at the world.

Why Amelia? She was one of the good ones...one of the greatest.

Why had it been her time?

Why had she left her feeling like an abandoned child?

She had been left before, many times. Always second best, never wanted, never special, but this time it hurt so much more. It was as if a white-hot raw pain had scalded her insides, tearing her heart out in one foul swoop.

Truth be told Amelia was probably the only person who knew the real Constance Hardbroom. She was the only one who had really taken the time to try, everyone else giving up when they hit the protective walls a couple of times. - she had heard it all before, many a time: 'HB obviously stands for Heartless Bitch', and suchlike but not Amelia no, never her, she never gave up trying. She was the only one who could see the little girl lost that lay behind the mask of icy indifference.

She had not only offered a path but she had held out her hand and never let it go.

What would Amelia think of her now?

* * *

She had barely been able to process anything, instead focusing all her energies on holding everything together and making the necessary arrangements for the funeral.

And she still hadn't really cried.

Even throughout the funeral, she had remained impassive, despite the cocktail of emotion bubbling away inside of her, biting down hard on her lip to try to conceal it, blocking everything else out, including the loud nose blowing coming from her right hand side as Davina wept into her handkerchief. Even throughout giving her own eulogy, her voice had remained steady, knowing that if it cracked, even a little, so would she.

All too late, it had struck her that she had looked upon Amelia as an almost mother-like figure, and now she was a child without that parent to watch over and guide her.

"I never told you that I loved you."

Tracing the lettering of the gravestone, she looked at her pocket-watch, knowing that by now someone would have noticed her absence.

It was time to go.

Whether she wanted to or not.

Conjuring a single white lily, she laid it down gently on the ground, taking one final glance before turning away.

"Sleep well, my darling."

* * *

She strolled through the halls of the academy, barely registering Imogen trying to ask her something, she continued on down the corridor, pausing as she walked past the familiar door.

_'Miss A. Cackle '_

Her hand reached out for the door handle, freezing in mid-air as she hesitated. She hadn't been in the office since...

Closing her eyes and exhaling, drawing all the strength she could muster, she slowly reached for the handle before turning it and stepping inside.

It felt strange to be in the office without the headmistress being present, almost like she was a naughty child about to be caught for trespassing.

She ran her finger along the desk as she walked round to the big wooden chair the headmistress had so often occupied; it felt wrong somehow to sit on it, so she simply rested her hands on the back of the chair, suppressing a smile at the silver fork lying in amongst the papers on the desk.

"Cheesecake until the end, eh, Amelia..."

Turning to leave, she noticed how the bottom drawer was more or less fully opened, something she didn't recall upon her entry of the room. Bending down to shut it, she stopped short as she glimpsed sight of her name.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she carefully reached for the document, her brown eyes widening as she read the words in front of her.

* * *

The papers lay discarded on the desk as she sat motionless, her mascara stained cheeks a stark contrast against her porcelain complexion, fresh tears filling her eyes as she processed what she had just read.

"Thank you."

The words spoken were quiet but held such sincerity as they were directed to the portrait of the now deceased older witch. In the portrait, as she had in life, she was smiling.

It was the kind of smile that could brighten up even the darkest of days, and could bring hope to those who needed it the most.

"This...this means everything..."

* * *

**Final page to the Last Will And Testament of Miss Amelia Cackle**

_...And I bequeath my school, 'Miss Cackle's Academy' to my most treasured possession of all; my daughter in all senses bar in blood, Constance Hardbroom. _


End file.
